


Triumph and Surrender

by Schupuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, No Beta, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schupuff/pseuds/Schupuff
Summary: Ferdinand enjoys defeating Hubert at the training ground a little too much. (Wank Week Day 2: Fantasizing prompt fill)
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 13
Kudos: 64





	Triumph and Surrender

Ferdinand smirked, triumphant as Hubert’s lance clattered to the ground. Hubert followed shortly after and glared up at Ferdinand, sneering at the lance being pointed at his neck. “Well?” Ferdinand asked. “How do you feel after your first lance lesson?”

“Were this a real battle,” Hubert said, “you would be dead, gloating like this.”

Ferdinand scoffed as he pulled his lance back. “Were this a real battle, it would have been over far quicker.” He offered his hand to Hubert. 

Hubert groaned and flopped back against the ground. “I am not going to take your hand.”

Ferdinand considered him there on the ground and bit his lower lip as Hubert closed his eyes. How dare he act like a petulant child! How dare he oppose him on every single thing! Didn’t Hubert know what that did to him? How many ways were there for Hubert to frustrate Ferdinand? And now seeing him prone on floor was only making it worse. His imagination started reeling. If Hubert could fight, so could Ferdinand. What would Hubert’s reaction be if he didn’t pull his hand away? What if he joined him on the ground, making sure Hubert knew that Ferdinand hand bested him? What would his reaction be to being firmly pinned there, their bodies pressed together and -

“Are you still there? I said I am not taking your damned hand.”

Ferdinand cleared his throat and withdrew his hand. “Yes, well, should you find yourself again curious about the fine art of lancemanship, seek me out! I may have bested you today, but you may have promise. Not that you will ever beat me, but still. Promise.”

Hubert gruffly grunted, still refusing to stand.

“Very well,” Ferdinand said, turning to leave. “But make sure you clean this up.”

“Yes, sir,” came his snide, mocking retort that Ferdinand was certain was accompanied by a sneer.

Ferdinand hastily put away his lance and made his way back to his dormitory. He’d intended on going for an afternoon ride after his training session but that plan was tossed out the window by the sight of a prone and defeated Hubert. How dare he.

This had happened more frequently as of late. He remembered how it started. He’d had a particularly intense argument with Hubert that devolved into a up close shouting match. They were closer than Ferdinand had ever recalled them being and for some reason, all Ferdinand could think of as they stubbornly glared at each other with barely a breath between them was how Hubert’s lips would feel against his own. He’d tried to banish the thought from his mind, only to have it return later in the evening, the image flashing in his mind before jumping straight to his cock. When he failed at resisting the urge to pleasure himself, he tried to tell himself that it was the last time he’d think of such a thing. But instead, scenarios began to build and today’s moment of training only assisted the fantasy along.

Ferdinand exhaled as he closed the door behind him. He frowned, cursing himself as he trudged to his bed, unfastening his trousers as he went. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicked his boots off and shoved his pants down to his ankles before laying back and taking himself in hand.

It was all so vivid. The way Hubert would fall, gasping pathetically as he hit the ground. He would look up at Ferdinand, brow furrowed, glaring and defiant. And Ferdinand, triumphant, would take to his knees over him, pressing one knee between Hubert’s leg. He’d whimper, but wouldn’t stop him. Ferdinand would reach for him, and run his fingers through his dark hair and he’d lean into the touch. A blush would creep across his face and he’d whisper Ferdinand’s name as he followed Ferdinand’s lead and their lips joined together in a feverish, longing kiss.

As this scenario played in Ferdinand’s mind, he bit at his lower lip to keep his whimpering and moans suppressed. He started bucking his hips into his hand, seeking out more friction as he imagine the hand around his cock belonged to someone else; belonged to Hubert. He placed his free hand against his mouth in a pathetic attempt to muffle the sound of Hubert’s name escaping his lips moments before he came. He stayed there, breath heavy as he came down. He pounded the mattress with his fist, angry at himself for succumbing to these delirious fantasies. Angry that he could see no one else but Hubert von Vestra. How dare he.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Wank Week!
> 
> [@schupuff](twitter.com/schupuff)


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